Tom the Triwizard champion
by aryasark
Summary: My life goals were relatively set when I was entering my 4th year. Control the Slytherins. Annoy Dumbledore. Master the dark arts. But then came the announcement of that bloody tournament, and I just had to participate. Little did I know that all my plans and goals would be completely rattled by it…
1. Chapter 1

**Tom, the Triwizard champion**

 **By** Aryasark

 **Disclaimer:**

All characters belong to JK Rowling. Only my imagination is mine. And I don't get money from this story. Only a chance to flex my imagination.

 **Notes:**

Script

'Thoughts' and 'Names'

"Speech"

 _Emphasis_

SHOUTING

 _Parseltongue_

 **Chapter 1. Prologue**

This is the story of my life. Specifically, it's a story of a critical- and _horrible_ \- juncture in my life. That horrible event was called 'The Triwizard Tournament'. On with my story, then.

My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I spent first 11 years of my life in a godforsaken orphanage called Wool's, with a bunch of bastard bullies and a hag named Mrs. Cole. Now I live in a magical boarding school called Hogwarts for the better part of the year. For the worse part, I go back to that godforsaken orphanage.

I'm special- no, I'm unique. I'm a wizard. I can do magic with a wand. But that's not what makes me special, let alone unique. I'm special because I can do magic even without a wand. And I could do magic without a wand _since I was 8._ And I could do important magic like torturing since I was 8. The other runts you'll find in my magical school can't do wandless magic even now. Not even most of our teachers can.

That brings me to my school. It's called Hogwarts. I'm currently in my 4th year. Do I like Hogwarts? I'm not sure. Though I, sure as hell, hate _everything_ that's not myself and Hogwarts. I hate my orphanage. I hate this bloody war that the muggle bastards have been fighting since forever. I hate this other bloody war that magical bastards have been fighting with Grindelwald, also since forever. I hate my Transfigurations teacher- an auburn haired pervy bastard that looked remarkably like a rampant pedophile when he came to my orphanage to introduce me to the magical world. That would be the time when he found about the things that I stole from the bullies at orphanage and burned them. Why shouldn't I steal things from bullies? True, I have unfair advantage of magic. But they had unfair advantages of brawn and numbers when they bullied me. So I used my unfair advantage. But, since that day, Dumbledore has been a pain in my ass- he doesn't award me points no matter how well I do in his classes. And I do better than well in all my classes. I ace all the tests. I could brew NEWT potions perfectly, in my third year. I can transfigure my dick to look like king cobra and then attempt to speak with it in parseltongue. (it doesn't respond, but that's not the point- The point is that that's one of the _toughest_ transfiguration imaginable and since I can do it _effortlessly,_ I'm a transfiguration prodigy. Oh and by the way, I'm _the_ true Slytherin, since only I can speak parseltongue.) I can cast all the unforgivables (though I'm yet to cast them on humans yet. Except for my wandless crucio.) But I digress- I was talking about things I hate. I hate my classmates. And my juniors and seniors as well. I hate my boggart. (It's me, dead! Of course I hate it). I hate that whiskered Gryffindor bitch named Mcggonanal or something. She always bothers me by being an uptight cunt. And I hate the house system at Hogwarts.

Hogwarts has 4 houses, of which only Slytherin is worth entering, only Gryffindor is worth beating, only Ravenclaw is worth mentioning and the rest is Hufflepuff. Or so I'd thought when I read 'Hogwarts- a History' for the first time. Now I find _none of them_ is good enough for a special genius like me. The entire Slytherin house thinks I'm a mudblood. And when I say the entire house, I mean the entire house- not a single fucker seems to have realized that there cannot be any mudbloods in Slytherin house. Because there's been no mudblood in Slytherin house, _ever._ So I cannot simply _be_ a mudblood- a fact that seems beyond my housemates. But they don't try to bully me- they know that I know more hexes than most 7th years. And I never forgive nor forget.

It's always puzzled me- in the whole Slytherin house, there's no one- _no one_ that actually fulfills the criterion for getting into the house- being ambitious and cunning. Except me, that is. Take the example of my own class. There's a fucker called Abraxas Malfoy. He's rich as fuck, at least according to him. And he's dumber than that Warren girl. I've cursed and hexed him for _three fucking years_ and still he thinks he's better than me simply because he's a pureblood. And he's got silver blond hair. The only thing that _should rightfully_ have silver blond hair is his great grandmother's .. Well, I can't think of him without using derogatory language, despite being a super occlumens. Then there's Archioptus Lastrange, whose only ambition is to learn the cruciatus and use it on muggles. And Belladonna Mulcilber, whose only ambition _should be_ to transfigure her nose and chin into something better looking and whore herself out to the better looking of the 5th and 6th years. Because otherwise, she will have Hector Crabbe as her only option. Crabbe himself is as cunning as Professor Slughorn's ass and as ambitious as Fat Friar's ghostly dick. But none of them come _close_ to Walburga Mcnair. The only reason she's not in the house of leftovers is that she's too dumb to understand difficult concepts such as 'teamwork' or 'hardwork' demanded by house Puff. AH MY CLASSMATES ANGER ME!

Now I'm looking forward to yet another year, namely my fourth, in Hogwarts. The Knight's bus left me _miles_ away from Kings Cross station. So I'll have to walk those miles. I can't wait to learn to apparate. That reminds me- I must teach myself flying without a broom. Only fools would choose as unsafe a thing as broom for flying. They're so fragile and jinxable and _narrow_! Only those who absolutely don't give a fuck about their life, reputation and _ass_ would love brooms. I realized all these facts right during my first flying class. Oh I never went in the air. My broom simply refused to come in my hand, no matter how many times I shouted 'up'. I realized I was making a spectacle of myself. So I summoned it. Then once the flying instructor, Madam Hutch blew the whistle, I braced myself and almost kicked off. Almost, because, right at that moment, Salmonella Finnegan's broom shot of like an arrow and she crashed after few minutes. _That_ was the time when I decided never to mount those ridiculous brooms again. I spent rest of my flying classes jinxing others (including Madam Hutch) expertly. This whole thing about brooms being unjinxable is bullcrap- even a first year Puff can do it if he can cast Wingardiam Leviosa correctly. And I was so much more than a mere Puff. I had purchased a thirdhand copy of the book 'Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies' before coming to Hogwarts and had mastered all the hexes in it. Needless to say, not many students from houses Slytherin or Gryffindor in my year like flying. That didn't stop sods like Malfoy or Charlus Potter from entering their Quidditch teams though. They had had practice beforehand- I couldn't do much to induce the fear of flying into them.

Now that I think about Quidditch, I realize the sheer amount of loss the sport has caused me. In my first year, I fetched house Slytherin a total of 144 points. Yet house Gryffindor won the house cup, just because their seeker- the 6th year Septimus Weasly caught two snitches in time and won fucking 300 points surplus. Similar thing happened last year as well. House Slytherin lost the house cup despite me winning 291 points, just because some uppity Ravenclaw bitch named Agatha Boot caught snitches. Enraged, I formally lodged a complaint against Quidditch to Slughorn. He said some bullshit about team spirit or something. Really, not being a pro in Quidditch has harmed my reputation. People and teachers say 'Hmm Tom is outstanding in classes and first in exams _but is not a part of Slytherin Quidditch team_ '. How can anyone even compare a shitty sport like quidditch with exams? I simply don't get it.

With these thoughts in mind, I entered the barrier between platforms 9 and 10.


	2. Chapter 2

**[A/N:**

 **-Understand that this is a Tom who's neither found that his father was muggle and abandoned him nor has he any clue about the monster in the Chamber of Secrets. (He only knows about the existence of the chamber, as you'll come to know in this chapter). And, since he's yet to reveal his parseltongue abilities to his slytherin housemates, they think he's a mudblood, or at the most a bastard, and so are mean to him. I've always thought that a closely guarded person like Tom would never reveal his special ability to his housemates, let alone on the very first day like Dumbles seems to think in HBP. Since his whole house hates him, and since he's no particular reason to like purebloods, his current plans don't place much value on blood status. He obviously knows that he** ** _could_** **be Slytherin's heir, and that Slytherin reportedly hated muggleborns, but having an equally bad experience from either side, he's not yet embraced the purebloods. (I've always found it objectionable that the canon makes Tom** ** _automatically_** **evil to muggleborns, and generally favorable to pure/halfbloods, right from his first day in Hogwarts). His 'goals' described in this chapter reflect that.**

 **-Tom's profane language when he's thinking: he lived in an** **orphanage** **with older boys and during war time at that. Nuff said. While interacting with others he's civil enough though, just like canon.**

 **-Adjusted for inflation. This story is happening in the 40s. Also, chocolates etc. were rather like a luxury item then.**

 **-Assumed that quidditch points get added to house points (for house cup).**

 **-Summary updated.**

 **]**

I'm sitting in an empty compartment, brooding upon my goals. Suddenly the compartment door opens with a clang. I jump- how in the world did I forget to lock it? Damn. I should crucio myself. Or carry a remembrall like those dumb Puffs. Nah. I'd take crucio.

"Chocolate Frogs?" The saleswoman asks.

I don't particularly like chocolates. But this time I _want_ those bloody frogs, because I _can't_ have them. The Hogwarts trust account for orphans is a bad joke. Mine had 3 galleons for 1st year, half of which was spent on books and the other half on my wand. (Yew and Phoenix feather. Dumbpervdore's Phoenix, to my shame. Took forever to get the matching one. At that time I marveled upon the similarities between Dumbperv and Ollivander the Wandmaker. They both look like rampant pedophiles. And they both have that 'crazy grandfather' face. Ah, merely thinking about their faces sends shivers down my spine. I think my Boggart has changed from me, dead to me having eyes like Dumbperv ( _twinkling,_ for fuck's sake) and demeanor like Ollivander's- startling and scaring the shit out of everyone.) Rest was spent on second hand books. In fact, the accountant must have _made sure_ that only secondhand copies could be bought from the trust account money. Thorough and cruel. Must've been one of the brighter Slytherins. In 2nd year they gave me 3 galleons and 9 sickles. And in last year, 5 galleons and 11 sickles. I managed to earn at least _thrice_ that amount just by selling basic potions to some Puffs and even Claws. And many more times by stealing from fellow Slytherins and threatening fellow Puffs and Claws. Anyway, this year they gave me exactly 7 galleons, 4 sickles and _2 knuts._ The account manager must be embracing his Slytherin side more and more every passing year. I _can't_ wait to crucio him. The point is, I've already spent all the money left in my account and the one I earned/stole on extracurricular books. I buy them from a particularly excellent shop called Borgin and Burke's. This year I've bought rather shadier ones like 18th century edition of _Moste Potente Potions_ (which has potions involving cursed things like Unicorn blood), _On the Origin of the Foulest of Magicks_ (which describes such _exhilarating_ curses as blood boiling curse and bone shattering curse and details about who developed them) and _Malitiosissimi Creaturae_ (which describes dark creatures like dementors and werewolves in great detail.)

'No because I can't afford them, can't you tell I haven't got money by my shady clothes bitch?' I think.

"No thanks" I answer with a gracious smile. Mustn't let my thought govern my behavior. With that, she leaves. And I lock the door with not one but _three_ locking charms, one of which is not exactly legal in Britain (because it heats up the locked door so that no one should be able to _touch_ the door, let alone try and pick locks. And it's impervious to Alohomora).

I glance at the parchment in front of me. On that, I've jotted down my plans for this year. It's in parselscript, so no one can read it. I had my plans planned right after I finished my third year. Now I'm barely revising them. I may be a brilliant student, but I don't have photographic memory. Must find potions that'll modify my brain to make my memory perfect.

This is how I've planned my fourth year:

 **4th year goals: (Progress shown in brackets)**

-Try to locate Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. (No progress, except having its existence confirmed by the snake portrait in Slytherin common room. That bloody snake wouldn't tell me _anything_ else.)

-Get into Slughorn's good graces and become Prefect next year. (Almost guaranteed)

- _Somehow_ make Binns' class less of a torture (No progress, unless casting silencio on the ghost or the class can be counted. Sleeping in class is not acceptable, nor is reading something, as that would suggest that it's _possible_ that I get bored. Not happening. But the alternative, listening to Binns, is so bad that I want to learn how to exorcise bothersome ghosts.)

-Continue shining above everyone, including 5th and 6th years and some NEWT students. Make all purebloods sods look bad. It's easier to manipulate them when they think they're shit. Earn so many points that losing the house cup because of Quidditch will become an impossibility. (Little progress. Only thing that's happened so far is some Puffs and some Ravenclaws have been impressed. Worse still, most of them are mudbloods or halfbloods. Because let's face it, Slytherin purebloods are too dumb to understand that not everyone is as dumb as them _._ And as to Quidditch, the game can award you _limitless_ points if you've got a smart seeker who'll neither catch the snitch nor will let his opponent catch it, and good chasers and keeper. And Charlus Potter, no matter how dumb he may seem, is a smart seeker. Gryffindor's chasers are above average as well. Bugger.)

-Annoy Dumbperv continuously. (Phenomenal progress, especially since Dumbperv seems to get annoyed by my mere presence. And then I help by acting like I'm the next dark lord or something. It's easy- all you need to convince Dumbs that you're evil is membership of Slytherin house, a tainted criminal record (no matter how trivial it is, and certainly no matter how _old_ it is- mine's from bygone era and I've never again given him _any_ reason to suspect that I'm breaking rules, but he seems unable to forget that one incident from orphanage) and being parselmouth. OK, the last one isn't easy, but the general idea still holds- that it's incredibly easy to annoy that old perv.

-Study _thoroughly_ the lives of past dark lords and the current one. You know, for inspirational purposes. And for finding out their mistakes so that I don't commit the same ones.

As I read the last of my goal, I think about the current dark lord, Grindelwald. I've read enough past Prophets to know that he graduated from Durmstrang, a school famous for Dark Arts. (Oh why couldn't my school be like that. Dark arts are the only truly challenging thing about magic. Well, apart from Transfiguration I suppose. So learning and mastering them is _satisfying_ like nothing else.) And that he frequented Britain in his youth. The village of Godric's Hollow, to be specific. The same village which, coincidentally, Dumbs hails from. And, coincidentally again, Grindelwald is of the same age as Dumbs. When I realized all this, I was _convinced_ that Dumbs and Grindelwald are the same person. And Dumbs is jealous of me because I can speak parseltongue, the hallmark of a dark wizard, and he can't. As to how he was achieving this duel personality, well that is easy. He could be a metamorphmagus. Or he could be using polyjuice with some auburn haired pervy looking muggle's hair. He must be using a time turner to be at different places simultaneously. At that moment, I almost respected Dumbs- such an elaborate deception is not something that every dark lord can manage. But then I realized that Dumbs couldn't possibly _be_ Grindelwald. Because no self-respecting dark lord will allow his eyes to fucking _twinkle,_ even under a guise. And not to forget, no self-respecting dark lord, let alone one having the command of a wizarding army like Grindelwald, would serve under a complete moron like _Dippet_. I personally would kiss the boots of and grovel before the first year half-bred giant named Hagrid that I had the misfortune to meet on the platform today ('I'm Rubeus Hagrid, masser Riddle, Good day ta you, masser Riddle'), rather than taking orders from Dippet.

Grindelwald _is_ a powerful wizard and dark lord. Of that there can be no doubt- he has the backing of nearly all pureblood hard-line families in continental Europe and the biggest ever wizarding army. But he is by no means the most powerful dark lord arisen- And certainly not the most powerful _wizard_ of all time. _On the Origin of the Foulest of Magicks_ gives a detailed account on all historical dark lords. One simply _cannot_ forget about the Egyptian Dark- Pharaoh Amunanon- he developed the levitation charms for the first time, nearly 6000 years ago. And he used them to build pyramids and drop rocks on his slaves and opponents and killed _thousands_. That seems childish to me, but that's hindsight, I suspect- those slaves and opponents must've been horrified by such an 'innovative' killing method. Even worse was the chinese dark lord Yan Wen Li, who invented the blasting hexes and explosive runes and used them on his enemies in the most _amusing_ of ways. And then there was AnshuManek- the Indian dark lord who was the first Parselmouth in recorded history. His method of attack involved the use of Parseltongue to _extreme_ \- every attack would contain _thousands_ of the most dangerous of snakes. He killed hundreds of thousands in this manner. Speaking of Snakes, I really like them- why doesn't Hogwarts allow snakes as familiars? The coward and corrupt board of governors must be viewing them as 'dangerous'. Snakes are not dangerous- they're _lovely_. Really, snakes are the most misunderstood creatures in the world. Their lidless eyes are _haunting._ And what if they're poisonous and predators? The school allows students to bring cats and owls which are both definitely predators. Cats might also be poisonous. Who gives a fuck about cat physiology anyway? Those furry shits! _Eww._ I hate cats. Ugly felids!

AHH I snap my occlumency barriers- mustn't get distracted. What was I thinking about, before my thoughts drifted to snakes and cats? Ah yes, dark lords. No matter how powerful and evil they were, they're all history. And they're not even that famous- wizards swear by Merlin's balls, not by Amunanon's cock. That's because all dark lords have an inherent weakness. Their heirs are _never_ as brilliant as them, so when they die, assuming that they aren't killed heirless of course, all their careful work gets ruined. Producing a capable heir seems to be near impossible. Hmm. A thing to brood upon.

Do I want to be a dark lord in the first place? Not _particularly_ , but then all my habits are dark lord material. Really, I don't think you can avoid being a dark lord if you are a control fanatic like me. Is is my fault that I want to control everything and everyone? No, because things and people, when left to themselves, are _boring_! Take my fellow housemates for example. Not one of them can think beyond using the cruciatus for torture. No, the real form of torture is _suffering._ Like when I locked those fuckers Jay and Samuel in that cave and set pythons loose upon them- for four hours. Or when I body- bind rabbits and make my snakes eat them alive. Or when I showed my special powers (freakish powers, in her opinion) to Martha- that's another slut from orphanage- and made her realize just how pathetically powerless she is. Really, the best form of torture is long suffering. And none of my fellow housemates seem to realize that. The point is, I, being a genius and the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen, can make wizardkind _better_. So it is my duty, really, to control and lord over the arrogant fools.

ooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxooxoo

I take off my worn out muggle clothes and put on the equally worn out school robe. It's been transfigured and scourgify-ed countless times to fit and look proper. I pack and shrink my trunk and head towards the Thestral driven carriage. I've always been able to see Thestrals- Germans had wrecked a theater right in front of the orphanage when I was 10. That attack killed 5 people and I took the opportunity to examine their corpses.

"Come to curdle our eyes by your filthy face again, mudblood?" I hear the inane voice of Malfoy.

I immediately send a _powerful_ conjunctivitis hex his way. Malfoy makes girly painful noises, which are arguably worse to hear than his witless taunts. I contemplate on leaving the matters there. But no- he must be _thoroughly discouraged_ from calling me mudblood again.

"I thought your eyes were already curdled Malfoy. What else would they be when they see the face around them every time they look into a mirror?" I retort. The Slytherins step back after spotting Malfoy's bloodshot- no, blood dripping eyes. I open the carriage door, but someone stops me. Malfoy's girly noises appear to have brought the 6th year Slytherin prefect, Bartholomew Richards on the spot. I could flatten him in a straight duel- but such a display of power would reveal my true potential. And that'd be problematic. I'll just play along.

"Let's see how much piss you got, mudblood. If you want the house to respect you, earn it- prove that you're a halfblood from a descent family like you always say. And get chosen as the Hogwarts champion. Then we'll see." He says.

Hogwarts champion? What Hogwarts champion? "What are you talking about?" I reply, confused. That brings a smile to Richards, the standard Malfoy smirk to Malfoy and the standard dumb Crabbe guffaws to Crabbe _. "_ Don't you dare attack the noble heir of the house Malfoy if you don't even know about _months_ _old_ news mudblood. Now get inside, or I'll show you curses beyond your muddy brain's imagination" Richards dares threaten me, but that doesn't bother me- _The bastard knew that I wouldn't know about this fucking champion thing and exposed me. He'll fucking PAY! I'll show him the curses WELL within my brain's imagination!_

I calmly climb into the carriage and sit. "What was Merlin's real name, Richards?" I ask conversationally through the still open door. That isn't common knowledge, despite Merlin's popularity. Richards shrugs. "How I'm supposed to know that mudblood?" "Well that is _centuries_ old news Richards. I thought you'd know, considering your remarks about months- old news. Or is your pathetic mind only capable of holding recent memories and forgets the past ones?" I say with just a hint of smile, closing the door. But I don't feel to be the victor- _What_ exactly has happened during the hols? And what exactly _is_ a Hogwarts champion? If that title exists, then it rightfully belongs to _me._ Fullstop. But I never read about a school champion in 'Hogwarts- a History'. Could be regular baiting used by Slytherins. But no. My legilimency didn't detect deception- only arrogance. I must find about this months- old news and the school champion.

The carriage stops and I can see the magnificent castle doors of Hogwarts.


End file.
